Scars
by Ryuuko1
Summary: mild ZukoAang in later chapters. Zuko and Aang are polar opposites in many respects, but when a chance meeting reveals the scars they share, will friendship blossom? Modernday AU
1. Fire

Author's Note: This is an modern-day AU. I don't usually write AU, but I've issued myself a challenge of writing an AU and not making it trite. We'll see how it turns out. Non-beta'd, but if someone's willing to help, I'd love you forever.

Discalimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is not mine. I make no money off of my writing. I just wish I had Iroh as an uncle. He's awesome.

Chapter 1 

"Good, you're waking up."

The young man slowly opened his eyes, puzzled and in pain to find that while he could see out of his right eye, that side of his face felt heavy and stretched.

"What happened?" he asked. He was surprised at his own voice; it was scratchy and brittle, not the voice he was used to hearing.

"There was a fire. You're lucky to be alive."

He tried to move and choked back a sob of pain.

"You have minor burns all over your body, but those will heal without leaving a mark. Try not to move, though."

The young man nodded and closed his eyes again. The strange feeling of heaviness was still on the right side of his face and it puzzled him.

"What's wrong with my face?" he asked softly.

The paramedic conversed softly, quickly with his fellow workers, before saying, "Don't worry about it right now. Rest. You'll be out of the hospital faster that way."

---

The young man was unconscious when his uncle walked into his room in the burn care unit at the hospital.

"Do you know what happened?" the uncle asked quietly.

The nurse behind him shook his head. "No. The paramedics who brought him in should still be near the emergency room. Talk to them," he murmured as he checked the patient's IV drip and bandages.

Iroh nodded and gently closed the door to his nephew's room before walking towards the emergency room. As he passed, a boy reached out and caught the hem of his jacket, making him stop. Iroh looked over, annoyed at first, but was assuaged by the obviously concerned countenance of the child whose hand was on his clothing.

"Yes?"

"Is he okay?"

"Pardon?"

"That guy. The one they pulled out of the fire. Will he be okay?"

Iroh looked at the boy, then smiled. "I'm going to find that out, actually. Do you wish to come talk to the paramedics with me?"

The boy nodded. "I was with them, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

"Then you are responsible for my nephew being alive?"

"I guess. I saw the fire starting and called the fire department, then went out to see if I could help. It was a _huge_ house, but it seems like only he was in it. Does he live alone?"

"No, he lived with his sister and father. It is lucky that they were not home to be hurt, no?"

The boy nodded, and the two started to walk.

"What is your name?" Iroh asked the boy.

"It's Aang. You?"

"Iroh. My nephew, the person you saved, is Zuko."

"Zuko...I hope he'll be okay."

"My nephew is strong. He will most likely survive this trial."

The two managed to locate the paramedics that had brought Zuko in, and cornered one of them.

"Are you a relative of the boy's?" the unhappy paramedic asked.

"I am his uncle. Would you give me your professional opinion on my nephew's state?"

"We managed to respond to the call quickly, thanks to the boy at your side. He had borrowed a passer-by's cell phone and told us in good detail where he was and what was happening. We were standing by as the firemen did their work, and were surprised and happy to see a pair coming our carrying a young man, your nephew. He was still alive, though barely. We treated him for smoke inhalation, which brought him around to consciousness. He wasn't entirely aware, perhaps in denial or shock, and was quickly put back under. He had various first degree burns all over his chest, arms, lower legs, and feet, which we treated as best we could. He probably has a broken rib or two from the impact that left him unconscious and on his back. All of these injuries will heal with care and time."

Aang and Iroh were relieved, but puzzled by how the paramedic was still somber.

"There is more, isn't there? Like why my nephew's face was bandaged."

The paramedic sighed. "I hope your nephew isn't too vain. The right side of his face has sustained third-degree burns. He is in no pain because the burn runs so deep, but the scar will never leave him, even if he has skin grafted onto his face to cover it."

"That is unimportant. Will he be okay? Will there be an infection, anything that could go wrong that could more than simply scar him?"

"There is always a chance of complications. But since he's in a specialized facility for his condition, he should be fine."

"I hope you are right." There was a pause, and Iroh stepped aside. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem," the paramedic replied, but was obviously relieved to be away from scrutiny.

When Iroh looked over to Aang, he was surprised to see that the boy was looking depressed. "What is wrong, child?"

"I should have responded faster. It's just that the house was so _big_ and people weren't willing to lend me their phone just because I'm poor. They thought I was going to steal it. I should have–"

Aang was stopped when Iroh placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You did what you could. Now it is up to my nephew."

---

Zuko awoke with a gasp, then coughed heavily for half a minute before getting his breathing under control. His left eye focused on the ceiling while his right remained cloaked in darkness. Puzzled, he lifted his right hand to touch his face, and found both covered in loose, light bandages. He looked down at his left arm to find it too his forearm covered in bandages, with an IV stuck into the crook of his arm. He started to push himself up only to feel a weight on his chest keep him down.

"Do not move, my nephew. You are not fully healed yet."

"Uncle Iroh? Is that you?"

His uncle's kind face swam into view of his left eye, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"It is good to see you awake. I thought you were going to sleep forever!"

"I'm awake now," Zuko said, voice tinged lightly with amusement. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"There was a fire at your home."

"House."

"What?"

"There was a fire at my _house_."

"Ah. Well, yes. The firemen found you unconscious, brought you outside, and the paramedics treated you. Neither you father nor sister were home?"

"No. They had gone out together. They said it was a 'father/daughter thing' and left me alone. That house is too large for three people; it feels enormous and terrifying when it's only one person."

"Aww, was poor little Zuzu scared of a big empty house?" came a drawl from the doorway. Zuko stiffened as his sister came in, her eyes and voice mocking. Zuko frowned and pushed the button to bring the bed into a sitting position. "What do you want, Azula?"

"You mean I'm not supposed to come and visit my injured, scared, weak older brother?"

Zuko's good eye narrowed and he was about to throw back a scathing reply when Iroh's voice cut in.

"That's enough, Azula. You were lucky to be out; you could be injured just like Zuko, perhaps even worse, had you been there."

"Well, daddy always says I was born lucky," Azula said so sweetly that Zuko wanted to punch her. Before Iroh could say anything else, Zuko's father walked in. Zuko's temper faltered, and instead he gave as much of a bow as his body would allow him to. "Father."

"I am disappointed in you, Zuko."

Zuko's good eye widened, and Iroh stood. "Little brother, that is not something to say in a sickroom."

"I have not trained him for years in the martial arts to have him fall victim to something as escapable and noticeable as a fire. He destroyed my house and is costing me too much to keep. He is a burden. When he is well enough to leave here, he stays with you, _elder brother_. Get well soon, Zuko. That way I don't have to concern myself about you and your inability much longer."

Zuko's father left without saying another word and Azula gave Zuko a long, mocking glance, a sneer forming on her lips as she left behind her father. "Good-bye, Zuzu scar-face."

Zuko desperately wanted to throw something at her, but with nothing convenient in sight and too bandaged and sore to move, she left with a soft, mocking laugh. Zuko closed his eye and took in a few deep, ragged breaths.

"My face is bandaged because of a burn, isn't it, uncle?"

"Third-degree, which is why you don't feel it."

"It will leave a scar."

"Most likely, but that can be fixed through skin grafts."

Zuko nodded, and when he opened his good eye again, it glinted dangerously with hate. "I will look normal, but it will never be the same, will it?"

"I do not know."

"That's okay. I'll look fine, but I will always know the difference."

"Then you want the skin grafts?"

"Yes, please."

"This isn't just to spite your father."

"No."

Iroh somehow found that hard to believe.

The two sat in silence for a while before Iroh passed Zuko the remote control for the television. "Watch some TV and rest. I will tell the doctor that has been taking care of you."

"Alright."

Iroh left as Zuko turned on the television.

The first story on the news was about his father and his business. Zuko nearly snarled and quickly turned the channel.

Would he never be free again?

—end chapter 1


	2. Debts Repaid

Author: I'm taking liberties on age. After all, Aang was 12 for a -very- long time in cannon.

Disclaimer: Avatar is not mine. Though I _really _want Iroh as an uncle.

Chapter 2

Zuko had been fourteen when the "accidental fire" happened. Zuko personally believed it was arson, but since no evidence had been found to support that, the case had been dropped long ago. His uncle had told him of his rescuer–Aang–but Zuko had never seen him and was unable to thank him, much to his dismay. It felt like he owed the boy something and that always made him nervous; he was a proud individual and any debts were irksome. His face, with the aid of modern medicine looked almost completely normal now, with only a slight discoloration around his right ear, lack of an eyebrow, and an inability to cry from his right eye. He was lucky enough to keep sight in his right eye, though it was a little difficult, since the scar kept the eye partially shut.

He was eighteen now, finishing his education at a private institution that his father was strangely willing to dish out the money for; Zuko suspected that it was to keep him as far away from the family business and Azula as possible, but he never voiced this to anyone, not even his uncle. He had few friends–in the beginning, it had been because of his face, but then it morphed into fear of his family, and finally into an irrational fear of Zuko himself. Zuko was puzzled by the behavior, but didn't mind; it gave him more time to train(the comment about him being weak had really hit home) and study, both much more worthwhile pursuits than human relations. He didn't want to become a business mogul like his father; Azula was set to inherit the company anyway. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but it would probably be something physical–he was considering going into the armed forces, but it seemed too troublesome; the army would try to break him to fit into the mold, which Zuko's pride highly disapproved.

Still, he wanted to do something physical, and for that he needed to be strong, so he found himself working part-time at a construction site, taking the most arduous tasks to build up his strength. His co-workers thought him crazy, but didn't mind; less work for them.

It was an Indian summer day; blazing hot even though it should have been chilly, being November. Zuko was sweating through his light tanktop, a fine coating of dust covering his skin. The newest project he was working on was the foundation of a new skyscraper–rumored to be one of the tallest in the world. He didn't really care, though. It gave him something to do with his hands, kept him out of his uncle's thinning hair, and was mindless. All very good things for someone who usually had far too much time to think. He was carrying a heavy piece of machinery and stopped as he heard something twinge. His eyes narrowed and he glanced around. They were beginning to put up the support structure of the building, and while it was a rewarding process to see the project taking shape, it was also dangerous. Too many things could go wrong. Seeing nothing, Zuko continued walking and placed what he had been carrying carefully to the ground. He sighed once the weight was gone, a pleasant ache in his legs. That meant he was getting a good bit of strength training in. He turned when someone called his name and frowned. It was one of his superiors. What did he want? Nonetheless, he walked over.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go take a break. You look like you're dying."

"I'm fine."

"Take a break anyway."

"But–"

"Just do it."

Zuko frowned, not liking being talked down to, but just nodded. "Fine."

His superior gave him a wry smile and shooed him away.

Zuko left, and once out of hearing range, sighed. He _was_ rather thirsty. There was a convience store just down the street–it was cheap, they knew him, and it was air conditioned. Sweet, sweet air conditioning. As he was walking along the sidewalk near the site he heard the twinge again and stopped, looking up again. There was definitely something wrong. Cautiously he began to walk again. Just as he was out of the danger zone he heard a loud snap and saw a steel beam begin to fall from it suspension above the frame of the building. He watched it fall then turned when he heard a yell of panic and surprise. A teenager was standing, transfixed and horrified, near where the beam would fall. It was a stupid and split-second decision, but Zuko rushed towards the boy, and pushed him out of the way seconds before the beam fell on top of him, pulling him close and protecting his head as they rolled to safety. As the dust settled and the danger passed Zuko let go of the boy, giving him a mild glare.

"You should be more careful. That could have killed you."

The boy smiled at him, unabashed. "But it didn't. Thank you for saving me."

Zuko huffed and stood, offering his hand, which the boy took. "You're unhurt?" Zuko asked.

"I'm fine. Perhaps a scrape or two from the tumble, but thanks to you I'm fine." The boy was still holding his hand, and gave it two shakes. "I'm Aang. You are?"

Zuko blinked. Aang? Could it be? "I'm Zuko. Nice to meet you." Zuko was proud his voice was casual; if it had communicated any of the disbelief, he would have been disappointed with himself.

"Zuko?" The boy echoed, eyebrows furrowing, obviously recognizing the name, but unable to place where.

"Come on. Let's get out of here before the crowd arrives," Zuko murmured before pulling Aang around the beam, towards the mini-mart. Halfway there he let go of Aang's hand and fell into a more leisurely pace. The silence was strangely comfortable, though there was the sense that they both wanted to ask the other questions. Zuko opened the door and held it for a woman who was exiting. She flashed him a smile before going on her way, and Aang entered once the door was clear, Zuko following.

Both sighed happily at the air conditioning.

"So...do you work there?"

"Part-time."

"What else do you do?"

"I'm a student."

"Really? College?"

"Almost. I'm a senior in high school."

"Awesome. I'm a sophomore."

Zuko gave him a skeptical look as he pulled a water out of the refrigerator in the back of the shop.

Aang gave him a grin. "Don't look it, right?"

"No, you don't."

There was a pause as Aang looked through the shelves before pulling out a disgustingly sweet carbonated beverage.

"What are the tattoos for?" Zuko asked casually.

"Huh?"

"On your forehead and hands. What are the tattoos for?"

"Oh. Well...it's kind of a long story."

Zuko shrugged and walked towards the cashier. "If you don't want to tell me just say so."

Aang frowned as Zuko paid for his drink, following suit a moment after. The two were reluctant to leave the store, but knew the owner would get annoyed if they simply stood there without buying anything, so they retreated to a shaded spot outside.

"I feel like I know you from somewhere," Aang said after a long, uncomfortable silence.

Zuko shrugged, then looked at the teen. He sighed, then spoke: "Four years ago I was in a bad accident. The house I was living in caught fire, and I could have died. Someone called the fire department in time, though, and I survived, though with a few burns, most minor, but one serious."

"Really? It doesn't seem that way."

"Skin grafts."

"Oh."

"Anyway. My uncle met the boy who called 911. He told me his name was Aang." Zuko looked pointedly at the teen beside him. "Aang isn't a common name. Could it have been you?"

Aang frowned, and looked at Zuko with surprisingly deep eyes.

"Maybe. Four years ago I was twelve. That was a bad year for me, so I don't remember much. Your name _does_ sound familiar, though. Not a lot of people named Zuko either."

Zuko made a noncomitical noise, and took a long drink from his water. "Well, if you _are_ the Aang that saved me, I want to thank you. Although that experience changed my life in a number of bad ways, I'm grateful to be alive. Thanks."

"Well, if it's true, we're even, aren't we? You saved my life and I saved yours."

Zuko frowned, then nodded. "You're right."

They sat in silence, drinking their respective bottled beverages, each thinking. Zuko finished his water first, and sighed, standing. "I should get back to work."

Aang grabbed Zuko's wrist, making Zuko look at him, surprised. "It was nice meeting you. This time when you were conscious."

"So it _was_ you?"

"I think so."

Zuko was relieved. His debt was paid. "The pleasure was mine. I'm glad to have finally met my rescuer. Good-bye."

"See you."

Zuko walked away, feeling strangely sad. The meeting had been all too brief; Aang hadn't been scared of him, like everyone else was, which was a refreshing change. He had been interesting to talk to as well. He found himself strangely hoping that they would meet again, under less dangerous conditions. Zuko snorted. As if that would happen.

---

Zuko returned to his uncle's apartment that evening, exhausted. The clean-up from the fallen beam had been extensive, and crowd control and directing traffic around the blockage were tiring. He entered through the back door of the tea shop his uncle ran and trudged up the stairs, dirty and _tired_. He shed clothing as he made his way to the shower, only barely remembering to pick up a towel on the way. He turned on the shower and sat down, letting the water rinse dust and sweat down the drain. He didn't know how long he stayed like that before remembering to actually wash. The process was mechanical and quick, and before it could entirely register he was in his pajama pants slumped on the couch, flicking through channel after boring channel on the TV. He heard his uncle come in and as way of greeting his stomach growled loudly. Iroh laughed and Zuko couldn't help but smile faintly. He was starving but too lazy to cook himself. He was also a horrid cook.

"Hello to you too, Zuko," Iroh said, a chuckle in his voice. "How was work?"

"Interesting."

There was a startled silence, followed by a casual, "What made it interesting?"

Zuko's eyes closed as he remembered the day. "I met the guy who saved me from the fire."

"You met Aang?" Zuko heard Iroh nearly exclaim.

"Yeah."

"That's wonderful! How?"

"I saved him."

"What?"

"He was about to be crushed by a steel beam. I got him out of the way."

There was a pause and the sound of pots and pans being pushed around. "I bet you consider you two to be even."

"Yeah. It's nice, not to be in debt to anyone."

Zuko fell into a light doze and had to be shaken awake by his uncle to eat.

"Have you finished your homework?"

"I'll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday, right?"

"Yes, but it isn't good to procrastinate."

Zuko decided not to dignify that comment with a response. There was a pause, then Zuko found his short hair being fluffed, making him swat his uncle away.

"Go get rest. I will be making certain you do your homework tomorrow. How are those college applications going?"

"All done. I sent them out on the way to work."

"Good boy. Now, go and sleep."

Without another word Zuko meandered into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Iroh smiled benignly at the door and sipped his tea. He hadn't seen his nephew that relaxed since before his mother died. It was a nice change of pace; usually he kept people at a distance, isolating himself from the rest of humanity by an insurmountable wall of pride and shame. He was a highly intelligent young man who prided himself on his abilities to survive without depending on anyone else, and it was only on rare occasions that Iroh even got a smile out of the young man, let alone a positive outlook on the world. He supposed it was because Aang had shown he had cared about Zuko back then, and had probably thanked Zuko for saving him. Zuko rarely got a "thank you" or gratitude from anybody, even when he did a good job. Zuko was probably so used to this treatment by now that any show of caring threw him off balance, at least for a little while. He would probably be back to the same surly, short-tempered, strong-willed young man he knew Zuko to be tomorrow, which was too bad. He liked this Zuko better. It was closer to who Iroh knew Zuko could be. Still, one's personality usually did not change overnight, so Iroh resigned himself to dealing with the same old Zuko who pretended not to listen to his advice but did as he suggested anyway. He opened his wallet and looked fondly at a picture of Zuko and his mother together and sighed. How things might have been different had she remained alive.

—end chapter 2

Note: An Indian Summer day is a day in middle to late fall which is unseasonably warm. I live in the Northern Hemisphere, so that means late October/early November. It might be a European/American specific terminology...-shrugs-


End file.
